


Memories of Gods Unknown

by WaterWych



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Elderly Steven, Gen, Reflecting on Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterWych/pseuds/WaterWych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything you've seen and once were is atrociously tied with your newest of titles: envoy of the insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Gods Unknown

In another world, a world so erased and forgotten, you would have been called a messenger of the gods; a messenger of the untouchable and transcendent figures who seemed to have been divinities themselves. Instead, everything you’ve seen and once were is atrociously tied with your newest of titles: envoy of the insane. You were once worshipped, deemed as a figure of the in-between that was nothing like a mortal, but nothing like the figures who walked the earth. You were a split hybrid on the borderline of mythical, magical, and bitter stark reality. Once worshiped to only be denounced, put on a pedestal to only be shot down in the coming of the ages.

Your ramblings – ludicrous and absurd, as people have taken to calling them – are occupied with vivid tales of a world filled with legend, magic, and an overdose of nightmares in between; your tales, however, do nothing but amuse infant children and annoy agitated adults who have smashed the ideas of off-planet beings and acts of grandiose. They say you’re insane, a madman, with nothing but your mind to betray you; they say your mental, but you are truly far from it.

You see reflections of far off worlds in the splinters of glass and the caresses of waves, glimpses of places one could only depict in a fairytale, but _you_ have seen it. People may not believe you, but you’ve been there with nothing but your experiences to hold you in a firm stance of your views. You weave stories of how you’ve fought alongside figures of stardust, how you’ve dueled against creatures of corrupted darkness to save earth as a whole; you depict the accounts of battling for not just the security of your planet, but also for the safety of your family – your family who just happened to be the beings of light and otherworldliness you trained and lived with in your so long since passed childhood. They may be gone, but their images are still fresh and vivid in your aging mind.

Wedged in the back of your consciousness are faces you recount so very often, caretakers belonging to an age now extinct. There was a frail, pale figure with a motherly and composed personality who often suffered from mental breakdowns – her mind a shattered mess of fractured memories and eluding PTSD. Another caretaker, one created to be a parasite who changed her fate and developed into something so much more, drifts in once in a fair while like the glimmering of fireflies – late to arrive, but mainly kept in good thoughts despite her rowdy character. The last in such guidance was a tall and stoic being created out of a pure bond of love, her whole existence designed on trust and protection – even if she was never often in your presence, she was one that had left one of the greatest impacts.

People think you are simply producing lies when you announce such parental figures in your life, and over time, you stopped informing those about who your caretakers were. A simple explanation of your father always does the trick – a man of a few talents with an everlasting sunburn and knack for guitar. Did you know he used to be in a band? – that leaves many feeling more than content with your answer. Your father, however, has long since been deceased, his age having caught up to him many years ago.

It is unfortunate how the people you loved no longer remain beside you, but that is the purpose you set yourself to unfold; it is the reason why you still interlace stories about worlds forgotten by the sands of time, battlefields desecrated by the growth of life, and the faces of people you once knew and loved. Your voice gives them one, providing a vivid image as to never forget who they were, and what experiences dominated your life. Your ramblings tell the stories of not just your life, but the people who touched it.

Everyday citizens you once spoke to, you can distinctly recall them. The aggressive teen once trying to fit in with a popular group, a sweet young woman dealt bad blows in love, a mailman rejected for the greater good of his existence. There were major figures like the dark skinned girl you grew up with – whom you had eventually married in good time, even if age has claimed her soul – and minor like the family of restaurant owners highly revered for their fried potato cuttings and bits.

There were darker individuals in your life – a violent warrior formed of ferocity and stardust whose mission was a hell bent journey to bring you down – and the ill-fated – one such case of an imprisoned transcendental being comprised of nothing but a wish to go home and a superiority over the forces of water, her wings a once magnificent sight despite the chains of incarceration. Those two figures were often the stability of your shadier tales, often relaying to others the memories of a beast sleeping beneath the seas dueling over a position of dominance and brimming like a toxic sickness underneath the crashing waves. One last being of divinity stood on the line of neither impartiality nor prejudice, her mind a confliction of obeying orders and fastening a grip on what dwindling sanity she had left.

In the past long gone, you had been a companion to many and a friend to all, but now, you were deemed the lunatic with not a soul in the world who cared. The people you grew up with ceased to live, and the family you once adored and esteemed fail to register a presence in your world. Left to yourself, you patiently sit and await the day in your aging mind and your elderly body with nothing but your memories and the faded gem implanted in the flesh of your belly to remember.

Because to you, you are Steven Quartz Universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this probably around two years ago, and for some strange reason, I'm finally posting this. With that knowledge in mind, certain things that have recently happened are not included, but I still hope you find a trip to the past somewhat enjoyable. 
> 
> Posted from my Wattpad account.


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